Tokyo!

It’s been about three weeks since we first touched down here and so much of what I read, heard and thought about Japan was validated. Visually it’s stunning, culturally it’s beautiful and different to what I know, and of course the food, drink, and hospitality we’ve experienced have been out-of-this-world-good, full stop. However, the biggest revelation I’ve had in these first two weeks is with the pace of life in Tokyo. Tokyo is a city of almost 14 million people and it feels like the ruling body got unanimous agreement from all 14 million of those residents to operate with absolute respect towards all rules, regulations and traditional customs as a means to create a city that’s an operational marvel. Trains aren’t late, there’s almost no traffic on the roads, there are no pedestrian clog-ups on escalators or in train stations, and most miraculously is the near silence you can experience in huge public places.

To start with the obvious, the food has been amazing and one of the best things about Japanese cuisine is its breadth. On a lot of vacations Rachael and I have found ourselves craving some amount of culinary diversity by the end of our time. These cravings have led us to make some foolish choices like Taco Bell in Sevilla or Mexican restaurants in SE Asia, but we’ve been in Japan longer than any of those previous trips and because of that culinary breadth,, we haven’t had the same hankerings. In Tokyo alone, we’ve eaten at restaurants that featured: Shabu Shabu, Yakitori (yaki means grill, tori means chicken), Yaki-Ton (ton means pork), absurdly marbled wagyu beef, ramen, udon, yakiniku, teppanyaki, curry, and countless izakayas featuring their own unique flare depending on the neighborhood. For me the no-brainer favorite is the Izakaya. Probably because no two izakayas are the same, and the type of dining you experience is in short bursts grouped around hot kitchens and different alcohols.

At the start of our trip, Izakayas were the least welcoming types of restaurants and felt like they had a high barrier to entry due to the quantity of dining options available in every neighborhood and the fact that these restaurants can be tucked into 4th floor “shopping malls” or basements, so there’s no way to gauge the vibe from the outside. You have to walk up or down the stairs and take a bet and walk in the door. It was even more intimidating at the start because we read a lot of articles that told us tourists aren’t welcome in a lot of places and you’ll “regularly” get denied entry despite open seats in the restaurant. Admittedly we did experience this a couple times, but it never felt brash or rude, and knowing how a lot of American tourists behave, I’m surprised it doesn’t happen more. That said, once you make it through the barrier and get seated, at the bar, table near the bar, or on a tatami in another room, you get to experience the surprise of that restaurant’s menu. Each menu is entirely different, but you can generally count on a grilled food section, a fried section, a stewed section, and a raw section. We’ve found some big time hits, and admittedly some big time airballs, but that’s what’s made these dining experiences so memorable. In fact, I just finished reading The Picture of Dorian Gray, and I read a quote that’s stuck with me since, “Nowadays most people die of a sort of creeping common sense, and discover when it is too late that the only things one never regrets are one's mistakes.” So when we think we’re ordering kimchi and we get the order of pig’s stomach marinated in kimchi, or when we think we’re ordering just beers and we get an order of crunchy, yet oddly chewy esophagus skewers, we laugh and cherish the moment even more.

While I could talk about food indefinitely, the real highlight of the trip so far has been the Sumo Tournament we attended. There are six Grand Sumo Tournaments per year in Japan, and three of which are held in Tokyo, and the other three are in Osaka, Fukuoka and Nagoya. We couldn’t get tickets directly from the Sumo organization so we booked via a tour group where we, and about 10 others met at a nearby hotel, learned a bit about Sumo and its importance to Japanese culture, then entered the stadium and watched from our seats. At first we were annoyed by the inability to get tickets directly, but we learned that 1) there’s a strict no-third party reseller market for any tickets in Japan and 2) getting the cultural overhaul of sumo's nuances before the event, made it infinitely more special because of how intimately we understood what was happening. Sumo is an incredible embodiment of the broader culture of Japan. It’s steeped in tradition, and is a shadow of the Shinto religion which has been formative of the country’s history over the last thousand years. To synthesize the sport into a few bullets limits how amazing it is, but here’s the TLDR anyway:

1. There’s a hierarchy of wrestlers (rikishi) where each can get promoted or relegated based on their performance in each of the six grand tournaments.

2. Each tournament lasts 15 days and each rikishi wrestles once per day. Promotion or relegation is determined by their 15 day record.

3. The goal of each match is to either a) knock the opponent out of the ring or b) force any portion of the opponent's body to the ground (e.g. hand, head, etc.).

4. There are a number of pre-match rites that each wrestler performs: stomping each foot to rid the ring of evil, spreading salt in the ring, and ritually drinking water before the bout.

I’ve loved every second of the tournament, and I even forced Rachael to give up our 4-6pm on several days so we could find a TV and watch the matches for the day. My favorite wrestler is hands down Takakeisho, apparently also known as the Round Bullet. He’s not the epitome of an athlete when you look at him. I’m guessing he’s 5’8,” 360lbs and has visible creases and folds covering his body, but he’s the reigning Ozeki - or #2 sumo in Japan, and he wrestles with a level of violence that I didn’t see from any other rikishi. He fires off the line from his four point stance, leading with the crown of his head with the intention of flattening the man opposing him. Alternatively, much of his competition seek to use flexibility, finesse and technique to best their opponent, Takakeisho doesn’t consider those options and in this tournament, his matches were the only ones I saw end in bloodshed - bloody noses, cut lips, busted eyelids. He also had a wicked arrogance in his eye, I can't wait for the impending Sumo Netflix documentary to air where we'll see a clip of Takakeisho sitting on a stool, smoking a big cigar saying "... and I took that personally." You heard it here first, Takakeisho will be the next Yokozuna. Outside of the violence, much of my love for sumo comes from seeing the depth of respect that each rikishi and each fan has for the traditional elements of the sport. When you’re in the arena, you can feel the reverence for this nearly one thousand year old tradition, and it’s just that feeling that makes Tokyo such a special place.

I can’t express enough positive things about Tokyo, but I promised to keep this relatively short, so I’ll draw the line here. We just landed in Korea, but I'll be back to write about a few other experiences, Kyoto and Hiroshima at the least. Thanks for making it this far, see you soon!